Identifying Marks
by graysonsflight
Summary: An arrow, a tiger, and a bird. Batman had always taught them "no identifying marks." But they didn't always listen to him anyways.


**An Arrow**

(Set prior to the events of Endagme)

"Wally?" Dick asked, trying not to make it too obvious. They were in the guy's locker room, getting ready for one of the most dangerous missions of their lives, and he had just seen something he didn't need to bring all of his teammates attention to. The red head in question spun to face him; his uniform still only zipped up to his hips.

"Yeah, man, what's up?" Wally's eyes were darting everywhere. He was nervous. Today really was going to be the day. Today, Dick hoped, they'd be getting Artemis and Kaldur back. Today, this nightmare of the past few months would hopefully be ending. He figured Wally had every right to be nervous. But Dick's eyes flitted down to Wally's chest before moving back up to the freckled face.

"When'd you get that thing?" Dick pointed casually to Wally's heart. A thin inked arrow pierced the skin just above Wally's heart, its point sticking out the bottom edge. Wally just laughed, his fingers tracing the tattoo reverently.

"You like it?" he asked before finishing the zipper on his uniform. Dick could only smirk at him.

"Does she know you have it, at least?"

"Dude, of course she does," Wally answered. "I got it just before she went under cover. She had wanted to get something too but…"

"But no identifying marks," Dick finished. Bruce had given him that speech more times than he could count. "It looks good, man." He offered with a smile. Wally just nodded and fished a small box out of his bag.

"Want to see something she doesn't know about?" He opened the box slowly, a gold and diamond ring winked back at Dick from its cushion on dark green velvet. The hope on Wally's face was a tangible thing. "For when it's over. For when all of this is over. I'm going to ask."

"You love her that much, huh?" Dick asked, but he already knew the answer. He had known the answer to that question for years.

"I do," Wally breathed. "Dick, these past few months have been hell. I'm crazy about her, I always have been."

"I know, man, I know." He punched Wally's arm lightly, watching as he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it into a tight weave pocket on his uniform. Dick cocked an eyebrow in question.

"Gotta have it with me!" Wally laughed. "Just incase the perfect moment comes up." They both laughed quietly together. "What about you?" Wally questioned with a smirk. "Finally thinking about it?" Dick rolled his eyes dramatically.

"I may not have a tattoo on my body proclaiming my love but…I don't know Wally. We'll have to see. You gotta remember, Babs and I are a few years younger than you two." Wally waved his hand flippantly.

"Whatever. You'd use your mom's ring?" Dick shrugged this time, pulling his gloves on with a little bit of a smile.

"Yeah, I think she'd like that," he said pressing his mask onto his face. "You ready?"

"I better be." Dick then turned his eyes out to the rest of the guys still finishing suiting up.

"All right, gentlemen, it's show time. I expect you all in the briefing room in two minutes." Dick didn't completely feel the confidence that projected in his voice – but he did the best he could.

Today was the day. Today was going to be the day they put things back to normal.

 **A Tiger**

(Set post Wally's funeral)

Artemis placed the sketch down on the counter top of the tattoo shop. Jade had drawn it; she'd done a beautiful job. The tiger would start with its paw on her left shoulder, the claws digging in, almost like they could pierce her flesh. It would end with its tail curling up over her right hipbone. The man at the counter looked up at her skeptically.

"This'll be your first one?" he asked. She watched as his fingers traced the lines of the beast. Even he couldn't pull away from the beauty and power that almost leapt from the page. Soon, it would be on her back, a threat, a warning, and beautiful reminder.

"Yeah."

"It's going to be pricey. And it'll take more than one sitting." Artemis nodded. She placed three hundred dollars down on the counter next to the picture. The money that should have gone to next semester's books; but she wasn't going back to Stanford. Not without him. Two other fifty-dollar bills quickly joined her money. She turned to look at the two girls who had accompanied her.

Zatanna stood, dressed in a lavender sundress, her hands on her hips, a wicked smile on her face.

"We're helping," she informed the tattoo artist. The other fifty had come from the redhead, dressed in blue jeans and a green tank top. Barbara stood with her hands in her pockets, eyes transfixed on all the possible tattoos in frames all around them. She had been the one to recommend this particular shop. She'd done the research Artemis wouldn't have, to make sure it was safe and clean, and had the best possible artists in Gotham. She didn't say a word as Zee moved closer. "You sure you want to do this?" The raven-haired girl asked, her fingers loose on Artemis's bicep.

"I am."

All three of the girls followed the man back into a more private room. They waited for him to digitally upload Jade's masterpiece so he could replicate it perfectly onto Artemis's skin. She silently hopped the scars she had wouldn't be an issue. When the man came back, he directed Zee and Barbara to a pair of chairs and kindly asked Artemis to remove her top and bra so she could lie down on the table. He turned his back while she did.

No one said anything when he started, but both Zee and Barb offered their hands for her to squeeze. She could feel the bite of the needle in her skin, tracing the outline of her tiger. Artemis tried hard not to, but she cried silently. The artist still noticed, and stopped, holding the gun poised above her skin.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes darting to Barbara for some type of confirmation. Artemis couldn't answer.

"It isn't the tattoo," Barbara offered with a smile. Zee leaned down to brush the hair from Artemis's eyes.

"Please keep going," she asked, biting her lip. The man nodded and started again. Artemis allowed herself to live in the pain, her nails digging unfairly into the hands of her friends. She let the physical pain wash over her in a way the emotional pain couldn't. Artemis allowed herself to cry.

An hour or so into the process, Zee stood, her fingers again going through Artemis's hair.

"I'm going to go grab a drink at the shop down the road. Anyone want anything?" The artist paused again, waiting for answers.

"Just water," Artemis said quietly, her eyes glued to the floor.

"Something, anything not soda, with caffeine?" Barbara asked, her hands going to her purse, but Zatanna waved her off.

"I got this one. Just keep our girl company?" The sound of her shoes on the floor was quickly drowned out by the hum of the tattoo gun.

Artemis could feel it vibrate against her skin, making her heart ache even more. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Barbara leaning down, her lips right by her ear.

"You're okay," she promised. "I'm here." Artemis nodded her head.

"Are you next?" she asked half joking, her eyes opening to meet Barbs. The red head laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Sure," she said sarcastically. "I'll get myself a little bird? A robin?" Artemis regretted her joke as she saw the shadow of pain cloud Barbara's eyes. She hadn't meant it that way. But Artemis looked up to see that Barbara was wearing her tiny silver bird around her neck again, her red chipped nails twisted in the thin chain.

"Besides," the younger girl said, breaking the heavy quiet. The artist must have been refilling the ink. "Besides, the boss always says 'no identifying marking,' and I'm pretty sure my dad would kill me." Both of them laughed then, if only a little. When the artist started again, Artemis squeezed her eyes shut with a sigh.

"Is it bad that I like the way it feels?" she asked, cracking one eye open. Barb smiled at her ruefully, her fingers reaching out to stroke her temple.

"It's fine. Just don't get addicted. Or any tattoos in awkward places."

 **A Bird**

(Set after Dick's disappearance from the team)

Dick was drunk. He could still smile, and walk, and in theory, have a rousing conversation, but for all intense and purposes, he was drunk. It was the perfect time for him to be making stupid choices. His fingers dug into his pockets, fingering the money crumpled there. He'd just made a killing on his first night, raked in way more money than the boss of the club thought he could – especially on audition night. There was no doubt in Dick's mind he'd be making plenty of money there in the future. His eyes followed the streets around him. This late at night, or early in the morning, very few places were still open.

The glowing lights of a tattoo shop caught his attention. _No identifying marks_. He could hear Bruce's voice in his head. No identifying marks? Shouldn't they have been thinking about that every time a cut had been too quickly stitched up and not given nearly enough time to heal? Right, screw that. His fingers traced along the back of his left arm: knife- back before he'd been fitted for extra Kevlar plates. His fingers skimmed absently beneath his shirt, over group of scars on his ribs. A "training accident" back when he and Jason… Dick stopped, suddenly feeling way more sober than he wanted to. Jason Todd wasn't someone he wanted to be thinking about right now. He didn't want to really be thinking at all.

Dick reasoned that he had plenty of identifying marks for anyone who was paying enough attention. Not too many people did. Now, he just wanted to add a few more – something with a little color. Something that he would choose – nothing someone else imposed upon him. He walked in, irrationally pleased with the sound of the bell that followed.

"Hey there," the girl at the counter greeted, a smile resting pleasantly on her lips. "You looking for some ink or some piercings?" She was cute. Her vibrantly purple hair came in curls to her shoulders, and Dick really appreciated the way her tongue flicked out over the silver hoop in her lip. He turned the charm on, trying really hard not to focus on her lips too much.

"That depends," he said with a smirk. "Which of those two would land me with you?" The girl laughed.

"Listen here, Pretty Boy," she said. "I'll be more than happy to needle you, but only if you can behave yourself." She was leaning across the counter now, her dark eyes glowing warm in the industrial lighting.

"Fair enough, I'm looking for some ink," he answered, pulling the cash from his pocket. She eyed it with a smirk.

"Something in mind, or do I get to pick it out?" The laughter in her voice was almost palpable. With the alcohol still warm in his veins, Dick wanted to play along, but the images in his mind, one right after another, brought him back to a slightly more sober reality.

"I know what I'm looking for," he answered, still smiling, but it was muted. The grinning girl felt the change in his mood, he could tell, but her smile remained.

"Sure thing," she answered, sliding a piece of paper towards him. "Can you draw it… or…" she trailed off as Dick shook his head. Art had never been his thing.

"No, but, I don't think it'll be too hard." He reached his fingers down to the edge of his shirt and lifted up and over his head. Despite his mood change, he still appreciated the way her eyes followed the hard lines of his body. He waited for her attention to return to his face. "I need two birds, small," he said pointing to the muscle above his heart. "Dark blue, flying together?" She nodded, her smile growing sad as if she knew, as if she could read the death on him.

"You lost someone." She said it as a statement, not a question. Her eyes held sympathy, but Dick only shrugged.

"All the time, Beautiful," he answered, a lopsided smirk coming lazily onto his face to cover his pain. "I need another one," he added quickly, his fingers ghosting over to the right. "Alone," he added, meeting her eyes. The girl nodded.

"Same color?" But Dick shook his head. Blue was for his parents. Blue to match the new uniforms they'd been planning. The ones that had matched his mother's eyes. This other bird, was for someone else.

"Can you do it in red?" He asked, and the girl nodded.

She led him over towards a back corner, directing him to sit as she got her materials together. They talked a little as she put everything together, but it was mostly meaningless. Dick couldn't keep it all straight in his head.

The girl, Nelika, she'd said, warned him before she started the gun, but he wasn't nervous. Dick welcomed the feel of the needle dipping into him, letting the humming thrum of pain wash away the pain he felt inside – if only just for a little while.

Later, he promised himself, later he'd get something for Wally, after he'd had the time to think it through…and maybe something… something for her too. She wasn't gone, not really, but after this – she'd sure as hell never want to see him again. And that would be a punishment he'd most certainly deserved.


End file.
